

FT MEPDE 
GenCol 1 




tmmmm 


■ ... • _ • 


mrnmmi 








W'/J/.vVAW 




>• v 




Wi&mir-tim 




■: v-;. 


• .- m-\ 


wmm 


: va 




&&&$■<:* 


^-rikx CLOTlcL 






■■ .ty^'v 

- : t . **.•/•>.- 




£- Vt;'‘{ i 








tsS0.rn.i- 






mmm 


\> \<:yW-:V{V 




























Class _ 

BookJAW^I 

Copyright N° 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 






































































































































LEAVING GARDNER STATION FOR WONDERLAND, 










The Time, The Place 

and 

The Girl 


By 

Ben Boston 



Yellowstone Park Publishing Co. 

CHICAGO 

1908 



LIBHARYof CONFESS 
Two Copies Heceivuu 

APR 8 1908 

wupyriiCfit c»try 

\o» « 

8 M m, Mu. 

1 7&M'k 


a 


Copyright, 190S, 


BY 

H. B. MAGILl 


ALL BIGHTS RESERVED 


FOREWORD. 


Tlie Time, The Place, and The Girl has for 
its background the wild, romantic region of 
Wyoming, known as the Yellowstone National 
Park. This Park contains the most magnifi- 
cent scenery in all the world, and is properly 
styled “ Yellowstone, the Masterpiece of Crea- 
tion. ” 

Here was founded in a romantic way a story 
in which the principals on their way through 
the “Land of Geysers” met and were united 
(it being another case of “love at first sight”) 
at the expiration of the sixth day while at the 
Grand Canon Hotel— the last hotel on the cir- 
cuit. 

As there is no connection whatever between 
this story and the “play” which met with 
such tremendous success, a word or two of ex- 
plantation will not be amiss, inasmuch as it is 
not the wish or intention of the author to de- 
ceive or defraud the reader in any sense of the 
word. 

The illustrations are by special permission 
and courtesy of A. M. Cleland, G. P. A. St. 
Paul, wdiile the cover design is the courtesy of 
the Haynes Studio. 


The Author. 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Leaving Gardner Station for Wonderland 
Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel. / 

Among the Pines. 

Fountain Hotel, Lower Geyser Basin. 

Old Faithful Inn, Upper Geyser Basin. 

Old Faithful Geyser. 

Interior View of Old Faithful Inn. 

Lake Colonial Hotel, Yellowstone Lake. 
Grand Canon Hotel. 




MAMMOTH HOT SPRINGS HOTJ2L 


The Time .... Summer. 
The Place . Yellowstone Park. 
The Girl .... Nell. 


Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel, Wyo., 

August 1st, 190 — . 

Dear Billy:— 

The real Radium is here, from down East, 
stopping at the Capitol of the Park, a regular 
“Midsummer Night’s Dream” and a live wire 
over which your Uncle Dudley fell head over 
heels into the cistern, although, sure as preach- 
ing, I haven’t touched a drop of the Oil of Joy 
for thirty-seven days. My pipe’s out this after- 
noon, leaving the tangled thoughts and sur- 
rounding scenes clear to mind and soul, for 
here inspiration catches you unawares and Cu- 
pid’s barbed arrows fly thick and fast, one of 
which punctured the silken gossamer around 
my pumping station just full of holes. How it 
all happened I’ll tell you later, and of this 
9 


THE TIME , THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


beautiful buxom girl of twenty summers, who 
hails from “The- Beanery” near the first touch- 
down of the Pilgrims. 

On the veranda seated opposite to me was a 
Study in Brown, gazing towards Mount Everts, 
or the Cleopatra Terraces, or possibly her dark 
brown optics w T ere fastened upon the approach- 
ing Form of Blue from the army Post — Fort 
Yellowstone — where is stationed the Sixth U. S. 
Cavalry across a quadrangle of green velvet 
formed by the parade ground. The latter guess 
was the right one and proved to be the Key to 
the Situation. 

The gallant army officer, General Smiley, 
(whom I had the pleasure of meeting after- 
wards) advanced with his lid off and saluted 
the girl with the silk rattlers with much ado. 
Right here my number was 23. 

“A very delightful afternoon,” spoke the 
commandant of the fort. “Perfectly charming, 
indeed,” was the noise piped by this female 
Yankee, as she extended her tiny lily white to 
the man with brass buttons. 


10 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


It was checkers with me, and as I was leav- 
ing the enchanted view, inspiring strains from 
Nurnberger’s orchestra filled the air with har- 
mony, while the spheres themselves answered 
the inspiration with its echoes from the silent 
sentinels and distant peaks with eternal white 
caps. The scene, the music, the girl, all served 
to intoxicate me and set my heart fluttering, 
and my feet slipping in their tracks. 

That same evening General Smiley (a most 
congenial and accommodating gentleman) led 
me through the gateway of an introduction to 
this human dream with form Divine. Directly 
in front of me at the table was seated the Gen- 
eral and to his right the girl who caused such 
an internal disturbance with me. This Gibsoh 
girl with hair a-la-Marcelle had Venus beaten 
into a pulp. 

‘ ‘ Miss Miller, permit me to introduce to you 
my friend — Mr. Boston from the windy City by 
the Lake. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Charmed to meet you, indeed,” were the 
bon-bons she handed to me 


11 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


“The pleasure is all mine,” was the ozone I 
infused into her ears. This queen bee was the 
limit for politeness — her ways were winsome — 
soft, silky and smooth, to which no true sport 
could file a bill of exceptions and remain a 
devotee of the game. 

The dinner over, the General begged to be ex- 
cused as he hurried to his office in answer to a 
telephone call, which left the gates ajar for this 
summer girl and myself to become better ac- 
quainted. 

“These culminating points of nature’s beauty 
are splendid monarchs guarding silently the en- 
trance to the ‘Land of Geysers,’ ” spoke the 
dame with the brown orbs that flashed meteoric 
messages which could not be misunderstood. 

“And the one in which I am particularly in- 
terested is officer of the day,” whereupon I 
transferred the rose from my garden to hers, 
saying, “The petals contain my innermost se- 
cret.” 

“Yes,” came the sweet reply with a naughty 
12 


PRICE 25 CENTS 



THETIME-THEPLACEandTHECIRI 


BEN BOSTON 





THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


little twinkle in her eye, “and I’ll guard it 
carefully all the way through the Park.” 

My cardiac was working overtime; my win- 
dows were dimmed from the hot vapor she 
vented ; my soul was on tire, which conveyed to 
the engineer in charge of my pumping station 
that I really was the king bee with Nell, so 
named from Old Drury. 

This glorious running start and grand-stand 
play compelled me to unharness the blonde 
bales before we reached the Upper Basin. I 
could not play close to my belt and hope to 
come out winner with the peacharina from the 
Hub. Nell asked me if I would like to prom- 
enade down to the Terraces — meaning Minerva, 
Jupiter and Pulpit Terraces — and listen to the 
sermons from the purling hot streams as they 
flow. “They might interest you later on.” 

“It affords me the greatest of pleasure, I as- 
sure you, ’ ’ not noticing her repartee. 

‘ ‘ Do you propose to ride all alone through the 
Park?” queried this superb artist with the three 
P’s — paint, powder and pencil. 

13 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


That was all the hunch I needed to buckle 
Nell on to my belt. 

“Not if T have your kind permission to he 
seated aside of you on the coach,” came the 
quick reply. It was my opener with Nell. 

“You may have it,” was her sweet response, 
and from which remark I became corpulent and 
chesty, actually forcing my collar button from 
its fastenings, and compelling me to hunt the 
hay for the night. 

At eight o’clock the next morning, which 
was bright and clear, we were ready for the 
Coaching Trip and climbed into the front seat 
with the driver of the four-in-liand who was 
in charge of the huge but comfortable Concord. 

“We’re off in a bunch,” said the driver, and 
he cracked his long whip in the air as the coach 
went rolling on its way to Wonderland. 

“Isn’t it just glorious to behold these natural 
filters (meaning the untainted hills of the 
Rockies), such a grand opportunity for a good, 
healthy, honest, old-fashioned recreation,” 
14 


THE TIME , THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


chirped my side partner with the peek-a-boo 
waist. 

“Perfectly sublime,” was the steam that left 
my volcano as we made a turn in the road, 
threading our way and galloping through the 
Silver and Golden Gates without stopping for a 
fizz as a quencher, into the beautiful Swan 
Lake valley, where the ladies come from all 
parts of the world to develop swan like necks. 
Here we saw the beautiful Electric Peak and 
the Gallatin Range. Passed up the side trip 
to Bunsen’s Peak on account of the “blow 
pipes” and not wanting to blow the bunch. 
The ride through Willow Park was like a trip 
intoi fairyland. Here “The Campers” make 
their first all-night stand and build their big 
log fires, sitting around which they tell stories 
of adventure, experience, etc., sing a few songs 
and then pile in for a refreshing slumber among 
the pines, in comfortable compartment tents. 

Beautiful Apollinaris Spring now greeted our 
vision, followed by the great cliffs of natural 
Obsidian glass. On this volcanic glass, Billy, 


15 



SOLID COMFORT AMONG THE PINES 




THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


neither drills nor dynamite made an impression, 
as the dark brown substance resisted the efforts 
of the engineers until fires were built against 
these walls of solid glass. Sheltered behind 
wet blankets (ever have the wet blanket thrown 
on you, Billy?), the crews dashed water upon 
the heated surface, causing the glass to crack 
and crumble into pieces, and the way was suc- 
cessfully cleared for the road bed. We passed 
the placid waters of Beaver Lake and Roaring 
Mountain (which is a hillside of a thousand 
whistles from Hell), the Devil’s Frying Pan 
and numerous sulphurous springs, which keep 
the pan hot for the next fellow. At noon tide 
we reached Norris Geyser Basin, where lunch 
was served prior to the continuation of our 
jaunt through “The Park of Parks,” reaching 
the first hostelry at five-thirty, where a delight- 
ful repast was served and enjoyed by all of the 
tourists, and, in turn, by a restful night’s sleep. 
Good night, Billy. 

Yours as ever, 

Ben Boston. 


17 



FOUNTAIN HOTEL— LOWER GEYSER BASIN 




THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


Fountain Hotel, Lower Geyser Basin, 
\ugust 2nd, 190 — , 

Dear Billy : — 

Arrived here a little dismantled but still in 
the ring, with two up and one to go — that ’s me 
with the lemon. I suppose you have had one 
handed to you by this time from the fair fraud 
who lives in the country near the Bucks county 
line. It seems to delight the souls of the de- 
scendants of Eve to squirt the juice of this fruit 
into one’s eyes nowadays, just to see the tears 
roll, even if he is not sorry for having broken 
her heart or circulated her coin. 

At the hotel, Billy, we were watched by the 
gossips, a few T of whom said I was a foreign 
nobleman; others took me for Mantell, but one 
eagle-eyed old maid — probably a school teacher 
from Chicago — positively stated that I was 
Packie McFarland, with whom I would sooner 
take the fatal count in advance, or take the 
Osier route, than put on the six ounce mitts for 


19 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL 


a Queensbury function and wait for the gong. 

That night I put on some agony so that I 
could butt in at the hop; wore my registered 
collar so that if I got lost in the whirl I would 
come out all right in the wash and be returned 
later as missing on first delivery. 

Well, I had a swell time in the whirl of point 
lace and diamonds and, — well, Nell was sweat- 
ing like a June bride-to-be from sheer nervous- 
ness, seeing me on the glide with a winner who 
had a creamy complexion and kinky chemical 
curls. This reversed blonde of nature was lit- 
erally covered with jewels — whether near-dia- 
monds I was not able to judge, because if I got 
a peep-in at them she might have told me to 
mind my own business — which, for her sake, I 
was trying my best to do, although under high 
pressure and wrapped up like a ball of yarn. 

My! but this bit of laundry work was there 
with the waltz! So dreamy, so feathery, I al- 
most felt levitated! 


20 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


The number being finished, I returned to Nell, 
who told me to return to the enameled, tattooed, 
do-notliing flirts who call themselves the cream 
of society and have “400” worked in colors 
across their shoulder blades, or on $ $ $ ap- 
pliqued gowns. Here I skidooed to the tall tim- 
bers. That held me for awhile. 

Billy, what do you think of that for the white 
coat on a man *s spine ? Chilly, wasn ’t it ? This 
female Indian, social butterfly and heart 
crusher literally pounded my Love Station to 
pieces and pumped it full of holes. Before leav- 
ing the Norris Lunch Station she had called 
me “ darling,’ ’ 1 1 dearie,’ ’ and other confection- 
ery names I never heard before in all my born 
days, then deliberately she threw the wet 
gunny-sack on me after the ball. I have had 
the skidoo number, but it’s NOW37 (up side 
down), and I was told to peddle my papers on 
some other train hereafter. As there are no 
trains in the Park, I just fixed things with her 


21 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


in the morning on the coach, and before noon 
everything was liunky-dory with the goose on 
the upper-most branch. 

Now, Billy, to the woods and fairyland, for 
I know that you are just dying in spots to 
know all about this quaint, queer but glorious 
galaxy of nature’s wonders. After luncheon 
was served at the Station, we occupied our- 
selves in inspecting some of the Canons and 
Geysers, among which may be mentioned the 
Geysers of Vixen, Congress, Inkstand, Monarch, 
Pearl, New Crater, and the Minute-Man, which 
by the way reminds me of my friend down in 
York State, George Tone, who made a life con- 
tract with A Crater and who turned the wheels 
of the Red Mill with such tremendous success. 

I forgot to tell you, Billy, there are some- 
thing like four thousand Hot Springs, large and 
small; a hundred geysers which are active and 
inactive, fifty beautiful lakes, ranging from the 
magnificent Yellowstone to very small lakelets; 


22 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


numberless rivers and creeks well stocked with 
gamy trout ; several glorious canons ; more than 
one hundred purple peaks (some of them snow- 
clad) ; nearly thirty waterfalls; large herds of 
deer (with horns and dears without horns), elk 
and antelope; many black and grizzly Teddies, 
but few of the cinnamon variety, and a goodly 
herd of bison, the American buffalo. Of course, 
Billy, I counted all these spots of interest that 
fill the soul with admiration, so you will have 
to let it go at that. When I got tired counting 
them, Nell took up the “Count,” and that is 
where I made an error in my addition, for she 
was holding hands with the guy who had wind 
protectors growing beside each ear and who 
happened to be from the Court of St. James. 

At the next stopping place of interest, I just 
chopped the little game with Nell and the deu- 
cedly awkward, don’t-cher-know gent from 
across the Pond, by seating her on the middle 
seat, where he had no show of even a look in, ac- 


23 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


cording to t-lie rules of the paint and powder 
brigade. 

This national playground has magnificent 
hard roads for driving which are sprinkled 
daily to keep the dust down — need sprinkling 
myself now as the coin gets away from me here 
in bales — almost blows away with the other 
dust. 

Say, Billy, if this pippin was with me on the 
gay White Way she would surely block the 
traffic and congest the trade. Wonder if it is 
safe to take her on our return from the Park 
“Down Broadway” just to cause the rubber to 
snap in their human peninsulas? 

That night I was struggling to free myself 
from strawberry white caps which gave me the 
worst case of internal asthma I ever had in my 
life — my, but they are bad for a sport. Billy, 
a word to the wise is sufficient — don’t hit the 
white caps and expect to escape the hiccoughs — 
you’ll be disappointed. 


24 


THE TIME , THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


In my hurry to tell of these steam pipes from 
Hell, I almost overlooked the most noteworthy 
in this Basin, and which have enormous power 
and are rightly termed the ‘ ‘ Star Performers. ’ ’ 
The Black Growler is so named on account of 
the “sage-brusliers” rushing the can for wash- 
ing purposes and the Hurricane from the loud 
noise resembling the rushing of winds. 

The coach in the afternoon threaded the beau- 
tiful Gibbon Canon as the road followed the 
windings of the Gibbon River, and after cross- 
ing a divide, continued beside the Firehole to 
the Lower Geyser Basin. We passed on this 
ride Beryl Spring; Falls of the Gibbon (eighty 
feet high), and Cascades of the Firehole River. 
In these rocky palisades and timbered slopes 
there is a feast for the soul. The Midway and 
Lower Geyser Basins contain the Fountain, 
Great Fountain, Clepsydra, Steady, Black War- 
rior and White Dome Geysers; Firehole Lake; 
Surprise, Mushroom, Buffalo, Five Sisters (to 


25 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL . 


whom no one lias ever received an introduction) 
and many other spit-tire springs. Here the 
mammoth Paint Pots — cauldrons of boiling hot 
clay which are beautifully colored with all the 
tints of the rainbow — are located, and the 
women ‘Hake to them” naturally for their col- 
oring properties, and get burnt for monkeying 
with nature’s toilet articles. Excelsior Geyser 
has been quiet for years, but its crater is still 
there. Prismatic Lake, Hell’s Half Acre and 
Turquoise Pool at the Midway must be men- 
tioned also as points of worthy interest. The 
lake is the most beautifully colored spring in 
the Park, sending up clouds of steam from its 
surface day and night; it is very shallow and 
about two hundred and fifty feet wide. Here 
we put in a very comfortable night’s rest prior 
to reaching the Upper Geyser Basin, where we 
found ourselves the next day. 

Yours as ever, 

Ben Boston. 


26 













V 


V 


























*• 










































































OLD FAITHFUL INN— UPPER GEYSER BASIN 




THE TIME , THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


Old Faithful Inn, Upper Geyser Basin, 

August 3rd, 190 — . 

Dear Billy: — 

Here ’s where and how it all happened and the 
blink put on my crimson sunsets in the home 
for natural vaudeville. This down-East whirl- 
wind loaded with beauty, pride and dignity — 
which, by the way, are characteristics of all 
female Yankees — was graceful of carriage, de- 
mure and quiet, and gave no immediate signs 
of balking and in no way even suggested latent 
possibilities of ever jumping the traces. 

I soon stamped her my heart’s ease during 
the few days among the bears and geysers. You 
would hold your breath, Billy, at the wonderful 
play of her features, and as her lustrous eyes 
sparkled and glistened beneath her daintily 
penciled brows— her red lips, now pursed up, 
now in a half pout, were tantalizingly tempting, 
while her latticed fronts rose and fell with the 
play of her emotions. I fell into a regular old- 
fashioned love spasm over this Bean-town prod- 


29 



INTERIOR VIEW OF OLD FAITHFUL INN 




THE TIME , THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


net with the brown orbs, who wore a champagne 
Eton that must have been moulded to her 
curves; a beaut of a golf skirt, and suede slip- 
pers of brown with brass buckles and wide silk 
laces to match. Those pedals of hers with 
arched insteps supported by 16-8 heels on an 
“A” last were perfect dreams! These stunning 
creations “took the eye” of every one at the 
hotel. They had me. 

Just a word about this quaint hotel, which is 
built entirely of logs, and of its kind the largest 
in the world. Billy, it is a massive and impos- 
ing piece of wood-craft, beautiful and harmon- 
ious in all of its details; electric lighted and 
heated with steam, while many of its rooms are 
fitted with both hot and cold water and private 
baths. The surrounding forests supplied the 
logs for its walls, while the interior decorations 
were artistically made from twisted and gnarled 
limbs and tree stumps. Old Faithful Inn is 
about nine miles from the Fountain Hotel, oc- 
cupying a commanding view on high ground at 
31 



OLD FAITHFUL GEYSER 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


the extreme southern edge of the Upper Geyser 
Basin, and it stands alone among the most nota- 
ble hotel resorts of this country. But a short 
distance from the Inn, and at regular intervals 
of sixty to seventy minutes, Old Faithful belches 
forth its clouds of steam and boiling water to a 
height of one hundred feet. On this steam jet 
at night time a monster searchlight is flashed 
with an effect that is gorgeous in the extreme. 
Among the lesser geysers of this Upper Basin, 
but none the less beautiful, may he mentioned 
the Giant and Giantess, Lion and Lioness, 
Grand, Beehive, Splendid and Riverside, Ob- 
long, Sawmill, Economic, Fan and Turban. Em- 
erald Pool, while not a geyser, is named from 
the color of its waters and is an interesting spot 
to everyone. 

Well, Billy, you should have been an eye and 
ear witness to what was said and done that 
night while seated around the brink of Old 
Faithful. It was rich, sublime and ridiculous! 
To make matters worse, we were caught in the 


33 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


act of kissing each other when the operator in 
charge of the machine on the roof of the Inn 
sent a dazzling flash of light upon Old Faithful 
while she was in a state of eruption. Nell near- 
ly had a fit when she learned of the fact that 
we had been discovered. I soon quieted her 
nerves and allayed her restless feelings, how- 
ever, as I looked this shirtwaist square in the 
face and told her without a wince that I loved 
her with the genuine Florentine frenzy. 

“Oh, fluff!” she replied, and with her eyes 
said skidoo, meaning this was so sudden. 

“I mean every word of it, Nell, and as long as 
I have ivy clinging to my towers you can have 
all of it you want, ’ ’ whereupon this dainty bun- 
dle of sweetness threw her arms around my neck 
and planted two kisses in succession on my 
cherry reds, when without warning the flash- 
light revealed to those guests at the Inn for the 
second time our doings around Old Faithful. 
That night sealed my fate with Nell. Had I 

gotten the righteous kick at the right time, in 
34 


THE TIME , THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


the right place from the right person I would 
have then considered the act a saving grace. 
However, it didn’t come, and that accounts for 
the absence of the blink on the twilights now. 
I told her I had an insane desire to make a life 
contract because her ways were so irresistible. 
Billy, take my hunch — beware of female whirl- 
pools — there is always an undercurrent that is 
so treacherous that it often dashes one on the 
rocks and fills his pipes with water. Well, I 
got it and am still. Oh! what a cruel sentence 
to impose on one’s self needlessly — one who is 
so unsuspecting and inexperienced, virtually 
selecting that particular night in such a ro- 
mantic way to noose myself and to put the drag 
on all future outings. 

Nell was a graceful spender of my'mazuma 
while in the park, wanting everything and kind 
of curio that she came across, making me look, 
at times, like the human parcel delivery. 
First it was Indian baskets, then Indian 
blankets, Indian moccasins, until she had me 


35 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


dancing like an Indian for fear of her wants 
not being supplied. I forgot to tell you, Billy, 
that when this pipe dream had her enameled 
face close to mine, I made the discovery that it 
was windproof and impervious to heat or cold 
and that the regular little black square was sta- 
tioned closely to her right eye and just above 
a dainty dimple in her rosy cheek. Her lux- 
uriant head of chestnut brown hair had me go- 
ing south towards the mocking-birds. Frankly 
and freely I confess I lost no time in asking for 
enough of it to make a chain, and wliat do you 
think? She delivered the goods — that can be 
proven never grew under a guarantee. I told 
her it was such a shame to cut off those lovely 
strands, but she said, “ No,” they would look 
cute on me. I’m still wearing that chain, but 
the cuteness and charm have all worn off. I 
wonder w T hy? 

After the scene at the brink of Old Faithful 
came the eats, and that’s where I had another 

jolt and lemon handed to me. Finding places 
36 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


for ourselves in a quiet corner, I continued the 
piping. Nell soon licked up a few cordials, 
while Mamie Taylors with collars on held me 
for a while, at least until the love vapor had me 
trailing for keeps. It was the run of my life 
to keep up the pace that kills which I had start- 
ed and could not stop for fear of being called a 
dead one by this study, and to stand strong in 
the center of her cardiac I was compelled to 
shove out the milled eagles frequently. 

Afloat and above suspicion, I was getting 
along great and without a hitch, with all the 
longitude between the Atlantic and Pacific 
Oceans in my favor, for the reason of the cord- 
ials. We were now using the same napkin 
and sitting on the same chair, utterly uncon- 
scious of the fact that the waiter had left the 
door ajar for all of the dummies to get next to 
the doings inside. Toasted to a turn in that 
crucible, my endurance fagged and my wind 
failed me. Here the Bridge of Sighs broke 
down and I fell into the creek; then the splash- 


37 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


ing of the waves began. “Nell,” I said, 
“there's rats in your garret; why don't you 
kill ’em?” Instantly she swelled up like a 
human yeast cake, squared her shoulders, 
flashed her fiery lamps in my direction and told 
me my number was 23, and to shift my freight 
to the opposite side of the table. Incidentally 
she added for my information that I might con- 
sider the engagement broken and myself dis- 
missed from the service, as I was not up-to-date, 
because I had the audacity to refuse her a 
cigarette and an occasional bottle of the spark- 
ling effervescence. 

Billy, she was laced so stiff and tight (both 
ways) that, on the level, she absolutely refused 
to listen to my pleadings. Why, the stays 
would not even bend! No wonder I was thrown 
down. I soon found that this tickling sensation 
at the bottom of the pumping station which 
could not be reached and scratched, was not 
what it is cracked up to be, but on the drop, a 

delusion and nightmare. Had me chasing colts. 

38 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


On this nifty female I sowed my wild oats in 
a wild and picturesque country, and the seeds 
of wisdom I now have safely stored away 
in my vaults of experience as “ready refer- 
ence ’ ’ for my friends who are unsuspectingly 
led into any painted beaut ’s steel trap. My ad- 
vice to the “lovelorn” is to take to the bunch 
grass and tanks and hide for the rest of their 
days. That night I had cracked ice in a towel 
on my head as a “soother.” Say, Billy, have 
you ever taken the ice route for relief? It’s 
great! But no more of it for me. I’ve had a 
complete cure and I soon won ’t have to tell how 
madly I love her until I’m black in the face. 
Nell is in a nasty humor to-night, so I guess I’ll 
make for the hay. 

Yours as ever, 

Ben Boston. 


39 



LAKE COLONIAL HOTEL, YELLOWSTONE LAKE 




THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


Lake Colonial Hotel, Yellowstone Lake, 
August 4tli, 190—. 

Hear Billy: — 

Bright and early the next morning at eight 
o ’clock we were off for the lake — our heads rid 
of all disturbances of the night before and our 
spirits aglee. I thought Nell was going to choke 
the sunshine from me, but she came through all 
right and the dark memories floated away on 
the air like mist long before we reached the 
West Arm Lunch Station. 

Turning our backs on the Upper Basin with 
regret, still it left our souls full of delightful 
memories as we passed the Keppler Cascades 
and crossed the great Continental Divide twice 
at an elevation of eight thousand three hundred 
feet. This wild, exhilarating mountain ride was 
enchanting — it was not a fantasy filled with fly- 
ing fairies and other woodland surprises, but 
the real thing that made every heart fill and 
thrill with delight — the natural resting place for 


41 


THE TIME . THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


the beauty and the beast. Shoshone Point, 
where we had a magnificent view embracing 
Shoshone Lake and the Three T'etons (the lat- 
ter many miles away and clad in white gowns 
the whole year round), impresses one with their 
solemn grandeur as they silently reign supreme 
in their majesty, fourteen thousand feet high. 

Nestled among these forest-crowned hills 
which surrounded our view on all sides lay this 
beautiful inland sea. — Yellowstone Lake — a 
most picturesque and noble body of water about 
seven thousand eight hundred feet above sea 
level — and noted for its salmon trout. 

The outlook up this lake, which is twenty 
miles long, with an average depth of thirty feet, 
is one that stirs the emotions. The waters rip- 
ple and shimmer as they are hemmed in on the 
East by the Absaroka Range, extending the en- 
tire length of this placid body of water, while to 
the South rises in its purple beauty and splen- 
dor — Mount Sheridan. 

At the Lunch Station are more of those Paint 


42 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


Pots, Hot Pools and only one or two small gey- 
sers, which are the last of them, having left the 
geyser regions at the Upper Basin. 

At one-thirty in the afternoon, when the lunch 
w T as over, the wheels were rolling towards the 
next stopping place for the night, which was 
the Lake Colonial Hotel — where a swell dance 
was given by the society brigade that claimed 
to be direct descendants of the Astabilts down 
around Newport. This social pow-wow remind- 
ed me of a band of Apaches on the war dance, 
who were burying their tomahawks into one an- 
other on all sides. One of these society squaws 
threw her hatchet at me, wanting to lift my 
scalp, but I saw it coming, so I side-stepped and 
ducked, letting some other duck get it in the 
neck — as is often the case. 

This “ smart set” was out in all of their fine- 
ry; real old point lace and diamonds (to beat 
four of a kind) and a-la-subway gowns with the 
big V in the back; they were like moving pic- 


43 


THE TIME , THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


tures, while the view from the front — well, I’ll 
leave that to your imagination, Billy — but I’ll 
gamble they had the goods. As they advanced 
towards you with the stony stare and icy elbow, 
it certainly lowered the temperature in that im- 
mediate vicinity for awhile. Some of those 
rented sparklers were beauties, and the “four- 
flushers” that hired them for special occasions 
at so much per evening were always in evidence 
when the dance was on, for the reason of their 
dazzling and scintillating effects. 

The guys with the plugs hardly dared to 
touch the hands of these dainty, dancing divini- 
ties (which were gloved in immaculate white- 
ness to their elbows), for fear of being “called,” 
if by chance a trademark had been left by one of 
them. 

One of these idols of innocence gave every- 
body the cold storage smile and the white coat, 
but as I turned on the battery it soon had the 
desired effect as the brigade marched into the 


44 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


banquet hall, where bottles with pretty colored 
streamers popped profusely, and the viands 
were placed where they would do the most good. 
In here we could see the “fleet” in their flying 
colors; some had burglar-proof faces; some had 
the wasp shape squeezed to the limit and ready 
to snap at the girdle; while others evened up 
matters on the pedals and had to retire on the 
pretence of feeling faint, in order to relieve the 
pressure. 

I soon drew my cork out of that bunch and 
with Nell strolled down by the lake, which was 
reflecting the moonlight with its shining waves 
of silver. It was a glorious sight! The queen 
of night shone in all of her beauty, while the 
Constellation and the Pleiades shot their twin- 
kling messages across the firmament. Togeth- 
er we admired the lake, the moon, the scenery, 
voicing the same sentiments at every turn of 
the wheel, and before I was aware of the fact 
this candy girl, a graduate of the Emersonian 


45 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


School of Expression, had me wrapped up like a 
ball of yarn and under high pressure. I was 
dangling at the end of the rope, and at the next 
oasis of the caravan 1 was roped — and am still 
holding on to the rope. 

At this particular spot in the beautiful valley 
of the Yellowstone, I shot the bunk thick and 
fast towards the object of my affections, and 
what do you think, Billy? The girl with “the 
bucks” whose father was long on Union Pacific 
Common and Convertible 4’s, piped “Yes” and 
closed the deal. I was in for the market on 
these 4’s later — and a sweet dream from which 
I shortly awoke. 

The beautiful and thoroughly remodeled Co- 
lonial Hotel is handsomely fitted and “home- 
like,” overlooking Yellowstone Lake, and from 
its veranda the Tetons can be seen in the dis- 
tance. Its colonial front and large columned 
porches at each end and center give an impos- 
ing and stately appearance that is most restful. 


46 


THE TIME , THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


That niglit Nell and I decided we would 
thrash it out together and it was all cut and 
dried to spring on the hunch at the Grand Canon 
Hotel the following evening. Good night, 
Billy, my blood’s hot. I wonder if the moon 
could have caused it? 

Yours as ever, 

Ben Boston. 


47 



GRAND CANON HOTEL 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


Grand Canon Hotel, Point Lookout, 
August 5th, 190 — . 

Dear Billy: — 

This is the last hotel on the circuit, occupying 
a beautiful site a short way from the brink of 
the Grand Gorge, through which the Yellow- 
stone itself flows. 

About half way between the Yellowstone 
Lake and the Grand Canon the road passes 
through one of the ‘ ‘ freakish ’ ’ areas of the 
Park. It is repulsive, yet fascinating, and 
causes the curious tourist to stop and rubber. 
Mud volcano (sometimes called Mud Geyser), I 
learned from the driver, was quite active years 
ago, expelling mud to a tremendous height, and 
in all directions, making it very dangerous to 
approach, but of late years the phenomena have 
not appeared. 

To the left of this extinct mud chimney, in a 
shallow ravine below, is the beautiful Gothic 
Grotto. Here the road crosses the Hayden Val- 


49 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


ley, giving us a grand view of the Northern Pa- 
cific trademark formed by strange convolutions 
of nature in Trout Creek. 

Centering to and about Grand Canon is the 
climax of wonders — the culminating glory of 
the Yellowstone. Words are totally inadequate 
to extol their grandeur, tongues are speechless 
in the presence of nature’s immensities. We 
stood spellbound, dumb, but filled with solem- 
nity and veneration as the river plunges per- 
pendicularly three hundred feet or more into a 
gloomy cavern below — that ever received so ma- 
jestic a visitant. 

At the edge of the precipice, the river, with a 
gurgling, choking, seething struggle, leaps with 
one bound into the tremendous chasm. Then 
the fall between jaws of rock leaping and plung- 
ing six hundred feet, where it is enveloped in 
mist and woven into rainbows that arch the face 
of the cataract in all colors of the prism. 

The aqueous and atmospheric forces have 


50 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


carved towers and domes, castles, turrets and 
spiral columns, together with deep caverns and 
gloomy chambers. Nature — the great architect 
and artist — here her immense escarpments, 
gorgeously portrayed in every conceivable 
color, at last blend harmoniously into solemn 
grandeur and beauty, completely captivating 
and overwhelming the mind, which is lost by the 
fascinations of the flaming gorge. Grand Canon 
of the Yellowstone combines grandeur and im- 
mensity. Its shelving summits girted with 
trees, from its wild promontories you can look 
into the depths of Hell. With the memory con- 
fused, the lips locked in silence, this amazing 
scene of colors and sculptured rocks is pro- 
foundly impressed upon the soul. 

The golden sunlight bursts down upon this 
immense barrier of rocks in dazzling rays from 
the blue ethereal vaults of heaven, while the 
imprisoned walls reflect and melt it into a flood 
of amber, mellow light, and the glorious sur- 


51 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


roundings give forth the warmest, kindliest 
smiles of nature. 

In this marvelous gorge nature culminated 
her handiwork of sculpture and color glory, 
and as it lingers in my memory like the outlines 
of a dream I simply stand with hands clasped 
and eyes up-turned toward the limitless expanse 
and say : ‘ ‘ Amen. ’ 7 

Billy, I’ll send you the brand I have been 
smoking in the Park as soon as I reach Gard 
iner — it’s a fine cut that can he had only by 
going through this Wonderland for yourself. 
Speaking of fine cuts, Billy, did I ever tel] you 
how fond of them I am at the hotels, where the 
outside cut is always given to me because it’s 
well done; and, so am I for the rest of life’s pil- 
grimage. 

The happy hit came off this evening at nine 
o’clock and the rope spliced — the one that 
dangled in front of me at the Colonial — while 
the life contract was handed to me by a minister 


52 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 

from New Hampshire who happened to be so- 
journing at this hotel for a few days. The event 
of our lives was pulled off quietly and without 
ostentation — that means we were able to pay the 
preacher for the splicing act. 

My wad of green had so dwindled I tried to 
work the gag on the clerk at the hotel by telling 
him that I had been “touched.” Billy, have 
you ever been touched? Nice business, eh? 
Well, the score keeper behind the counter gave 
me the glassy stare, at the same time flashing 
a card under my nose that told of delinquent or 
star guests at the hotel. One said: “I’ll pay 
Saturday night sure if I live.” He’s dead. An- 
other said : 6 ‘ See you tomorrow. ’ ’ He ’s blind. 

Still another, “I hope to pay this week or go to 
hell.” He’s gone. 

Our stay at the Grand Canon Hotel was the 
real essence of the clover blossom— full of the 
nectar that fills the cup or like Omar with his 
little brown jug — no cans in his time — a slice of 


53 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


bread and a beautiful damsel to sing for him at 
his pleasure, to chase the growler for the suds 
and to hold the cup at the brink! Say, Billy, 
wonder if this is the same brink? I believe it 
is, for something seems to whisper to me that 
the longest thing in married life is a loveless 
pilgrimage, and when one meets the wants of 
the other then each is suspicious of the other, 
because loving a few good women is real pleas- 
ure; loving a few of the others is real pain; lov- 
ing your wife — the right woman — is half and 
half. Billy, my advice is not to get too much 
of the latter — then you’re safe. The good wom- 
an is a blessing, God bless her, but the bad one 
(when she reaches the lower level) is like the 
lid off Hell, letting out fire and brimstone. Billy, 
be awful careful of these human lids, for when 
you strike a hot one she’s like a volcano— ready 
to let go — then there’s doings. Good night — 
I’m for the sleeps. 

Yours as ever, 

Ben Boston. 


54 


THE TIME , THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


Mount Washburn, Above the Clouds, 

August 6th, 190 — . 

Dear Billy: — 

Next door to heaven today, but could not get 
in; great consternation prevailed within us 
when Nell and myself received the cold should 
er on the summit of Mount Washburn, the alti- 
tude of which is ten thousand feet, and carpeted 
in white. 

What a grand panoramic or bird’s-eye view 
we had from this silent sentinel of the Park; it 
is truly marvelous, giving to each of us a con- 
nected and accurate idea of the region between 
the Mammoth Hot Springs — our starting point 
— and the great and beautiful lake itself — just 
like an open book. After drinking in these 
gifts of the gods, we covered the ten miles back 
to the hotel by way of “ Uncle Tom’s Trail,” 
and then for a farewell look from Inspiration 
Point at the culminating and most magnificent 
spot in nature’s album. 

Here the yellow, the gray and the brown pre- 
dominate in the rocks, while above is the azure 


55 


THE TIME , THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


blue and below a carpet of green. Such a com- 
mingling of colors no artist can paint; no tongue 
describe, yet speak as it must in silence to the 
soul, where it sears upon the tablets of memory 
these flaming words: YELLOWSTONE the 
MASTERPIECE of all that is sublime and 
beautiful. 

Billy, since receiving the life sentence and 
dropping my little in the good of the cause, 
Nell gave up her new fangled ideas and decided 
upon a quick get-away in the morning. Of 
course, some of her phony ideas had to be ex- 
tracted, yet she’s the big squeal with me, and 
when she says, “Lay down, roll over and play 
dead, dearie,” why of course I just roll — and 
if you ever get caught by a wringer, Billy, 
you’ll do the same thing — get this into your 
coco, for when once quarantined around the car- 
diac and trailing for a fancy dame, you will play 
the deuce instead of the ace in the game of 
hearts every time. 

Each jolt I received on my way through life’s 
vale of tears up to and including the last one 


56 * 


THE TIME , THE PLACE AND THE GIRL 


I have used as a peg on which to hang up my ex- 
periences — but for the sake of peace — with Nell 
I do not label them. 

The next morning bright and early we left 
the Grand Canon of the Yellowstone and the 
Land of Geysers for Gardiner, passing by Beds 
of Sol-fatara and close to the Wedded Trees, and 
the Virginia Cascades. Arrived at Norris on 
time, where lunch was served, after which the 
Concord was on its way back to the starting 
point — Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel — and with 
the greatest reluctance and regret we turned 
our backs upon the most inspiring scenes in 
nature. 

Last night Nell was so bright and cheerful, 
full of hope and what she would do when she 
reached her journey’s end, while I was lacking 
in repose. The ‘ ‘ bucks ’ ’ had quit their jingling 
in my pockets; the ice route as a last resort was 
supplanting the Mamie Taylors, and putting the 
chill on my preserved sense of humor, which 
was canned later, or else I was free to go my 
way, One of her resolves was to lay aside the 
57 


THE TIME , THE PLACE AND THE GIRL . 


enameled mask, the powder and the rag. Her 
bon -tons, which created the wasp curves, were 
to give way for others more sensible which gave 
the stays a chance to bend. 

When the soft velvet curtains of night fell 
upon us on our way up from Cinnabar, Billy, I 
felt like the big king in a new deck just hatched 
in the incubator of love. That night I had 
“dreams” of a twentieth century convulsion 
or family earthquake — was the train off the 
track or had I crawled into the wrong berth? 
Have not yet found out the reason for those 
early presentiments. 

Today I’ve got the blues, headache, and I’m 
homesick/ What causes such a combination, or 
is this experience traveling towards you, Billy? 

It was decided aboard the train that we would 
go flatting for a while in the White City or 
Schlitzville, and that ’s where the brain-storm in 
my dream began to brew — it seemed as if it 
lasted several years before the big black clouds 
broke upon our domestic felicity; then it was 
like those pipes from Hell in the Park — bursting 
forth in their wrath and fury, quieting down for 
58 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


a while, then repeating themselves again at ir- 
regular intervals. Billy, if yours-to-be ever 
acts like a human volcano, just take to the 
double tracked roadbed, or the tall timbers, and 
never let your wife, or any other wife, wliip-saw 
you, as the results are too disastrous to mention. 
If there is a convenient fire-escape take to it and 
avoid complications, unless you wish to be 
pickled in perfume a-la Osier. 

Billy, the coils and fuses in the love battery 
are broken — the human love furnace has grown 
cold and the great game of billiards is dull and 
uninteresting. It seems as if I really have been 
Oslerized — or the knock-out drops handed to 
me by this $$$ appliqued artist from the Hub. 

The green lithographs, in bales, are no more 
in evidence, and I feel like the label on the bot- 
tle — on the outside — not in it. However, I have 
just enough of them left for one more hunting 
trip which will be a “ still hunt’ 1 for large game. 
Whether ahead of the season or not, I’m going 
gunning — I’m loaded for bear and a good sup- 
ply of the red coffin varnish. 

The Oil of Joy burns defeat from the memory 


59 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


and helps us forget our troubles when the wick 
is burning low. Mine needs trimming, Billy, or 
do you think it lias been trimmed enough % 

From the snowy summit of Mount Washburn 
to the gloomy caverns of Hell has been the ex- 
tremes through which this shattered idol of 
beauty has drawn and quartered my very heart ; 
boiled the milk of human kindness until 
scorched by the hot flames of ingratitude, which 
when cooled left the cup of life filled with re- 
gret. Introspectively it’s like fairyland, but 
retrospectively it’s Hell jarred loose from its 
foundations. Whether jagged, jarred or jilted 
makes no difference with me now — I need the 
money, and that is my game in the race with 
death, and it’s one to the finish — if short, 
why then a merry one — and but few checks to 
count at the final cash in. The slate is now 
sponged and the track clear for a fast race, with 
the odds — in whose favor? 

At The Mines. 

Nell and I had come to the “parting of the 
ways” — she going to her folks down East, while 
I took to the mines in the West, where after a 


oo 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


few short months of wrestling with dame for- 
tune, she at last smiled upon me, and I found 
myself the owner of a rich gold mine which was 
accidentally discovered by my prospector, 
whom I had grubstaked at so much a month and 
an interest in the property. The only compan- 
ion to this wanderer of the desert was a burro, 
“And her name was Maud.” At night these 
niglit-in-gales of the wild rend the air with their 
shrill hee-haws until the forlorn and dusty man 
with the pick is compelled to arise and silence 
them. 

A strange feeling of loneliness comes o ’er me, 
Billy, and it’s tinged with sadness. Wonder 
(and that’s the name of the camp) if the girl 
Nell is thinking of me! Guess I’ll drop her a 
line and send her one of the beautiful nuggets 
found on the property and a picture of myself as 
I look at the mines. Our quarrel was a lover’s 
quarrel, Billy, like many another, and here I am 
well heeled once more and no one to share it 
with me. 

The old Overland stage was heavily loaded 
with mail and arrived twice a week. In it was 


61 


THE TIME, THE PLACE AND THE GIRL. 


a letter from Nell. My heart leaped to my throat 
as I opened it and read: “All is forgiven; 
I love you, dear, more than ever.” Nell said 
she is looking for me every day, so I suppose 
I ’ll go East and get her. The sunshine of glad- 
ness will then beam upon me once again, and 
now that the silver lining of those black clouds 
shines for us, it is my fervent wish that they 
never gather again to dispel the sunlight of our 
home and the happiness in our hearts. 

Billy, it’s almost two years since that wind- 
storm occurred, now it is ail calm and peace, ex- 
cept where our little one — I forgot to tell you 
that we have a lively bundle of sunshine four 
months old — the cutest, brightest and ‘ ‘ the 
only” boy among the Rockies. His name is jus! 
plain “Ted” — no fancy labels yet until he 
gets his diplomas for them. 

And now the home is complete, and when you 
come to visit us, Billy, you will find plenty of 
sunshine, happiness and welcome in our home 
to greet you. Good-bye. 

Yours as ever, 

Ben Boston. 


62 














8 1908 




*- 































































































































* 












































i/ 
































































































































































' 






























































































* 











